stitch her back together some things never change
by memorysdaughter
Summary: The sequel to "sharpen your blade." Both are based on tumblr prompts. Read that one first or this won't make any sense. Natasha/Skye established, some fluff, some serious stuff.


**A/N:** So, some time after I wrote "sharpen your blade" someone asked for more of it. Here's more!

The chapter titles are quilt-block names, which I love because they sound so refined and classy and old-fashioned.

Natasha/Skye established. Read "sharpen your blade" first because otherwise this will make very little sense.

Let me know what you think!

* * *

i. _true lover's knot_

"Won't let you go," Skye says firmly.

"It's my job, _milaya devushka_."

"Don't get to call me _lovely girl_ and then…" Skye frowns. "And then…"

She looks over at Natasha. "Hate this."

"You survived an earthquake that leveled an entire village," Natasha reminds her.

" _Caused_ it," Skye mutters.

"That makes it even _more_ impressive," Natasha says. "The fact that you're even upright is a miracle."

She leans in and strokes Skye's fingers and a flicker of happiness warms her as she manages to do so without causing Skye to flinch or wince in pain. It's not an easy task for multiple reasons. The first one is that Skye's body is literally an entire catalog of injury – her broken arms are still casted (the newest ones are purple), her fractured legs are in specially-made braces, her body's held up with the aid of a pressure vest so the crack in her sternum doesn't kill her, and she's still got a head carefully bandaged from the brain surgery she'd somehow lived through, and over that a helmet Fitz made to keep her safe whenever she's on her feet (something she doesn't do much of yet). The second is that Skye's gotten jumpy since she woke up. She's terrified of hurting anyone, especially anyone she loves.

(And she definitely loves Natasha.)

Skye doesn't love the fact that she's lost most of the vision in her left eye. Or the brain damage resulting from the extremely high pressures that were created when her brain knocked around in her skull during the fallout from the earthquake. She's confused, irritable, overly emotional, and can't find the words she wants.

Except when she's around Natasha.

Natasha's never seen anyone try so damn hard to reach beyond their physical incapability. Skye wanted to be awake all the time when Natasha was there, even if it was three in the morning and Skye had been up all day. Skye put in more effort with Natasha than she does with anyone else.

It makes Tasha feel bad.

(For Skye, and for everyone around Skye who has to deal with a cranky, irritable, overly-emotional helmet-wearing earthquake girl whose powers tend to show up when she can't remember the words she wants and who cries at the drop of a hat.)

"I won't be gone for very long," Natasha says, knowing this is a lie and hating herself for it. Time is a series of skips and blurs for Skye now – three days could seem like two months. Natasha hopes the reverse is true, since that's the amount of time she's been asked to remain at the Avengers' compound overseeing the somewhat-suspicious visit of a strange diplomat with either super-powers or super amounts of money (to be honest she hadn't paid much attention in that mission briefing).

"Where… you going?" Skye asks, her voice getting stilted and uneven. She's exhausted and all Natasha wants is for her to stop fighting the massive doses of painkillers Jemma administered an hour or so ago and fall asleep.

"We talked about it yesterday," Natasha says. "I'm going to the new base."

"Want to go."

"I know you do, sweetheart," Natasha says, and she carefully readjusts her position in the hospital-style bed that has been Skye's home base for the past two months. "But you need to stay here."

"Stupid bed," Skye mutters.

"I meant _here_ at the base," Natasha says. "You're going to try walking again, and Jemma wants to do another surgery on your eye."

"No!" Skye protests, trying to push herself away from Natasha as best she can. "No more!"

Her casted arms are useless, and the only thing that moves in the room is a plastic pitcher of water on a table across the room, which wobbles exactly once and then stands still.

"Oh, darling," Natasha murmurs, and she puts her arms around Skye.

"You won't… you won't… you won't…" Skye lets out a screech of frustration.

Natasha knows where she's trying to go; they've had this conversation before. "I won't stop loving you just because I have to go away for a while."

She's lost Skye, though, and now the dark-haired girl is beating herself in the head with her casts. "Stupid, stupid girl. _Stupid_."

"Hey," Natasha says, raising her voice just slightly as she quickly blocks Skye's arms from getting to her head. "You are _not_ stupid. You are the smartest person I know."

" _Was_."

"None of that," Natasha says. "You're brilliant, and you're amazing, and you're _mine_."

"Oh." The word comes out of Skye's mouth like a surprised bubble.

"All I want for you is to get better," Natasha goes on as Skye seems to relax. "That means some more hard work."

Skye's eyes droop closed. "Don't go," she murmurs.

"I'm not leaving right now," Natasha promises.

"Don't… go away," Skye repeats.

"I'm not leaving right now."

A lot of their conversations lately have been loops like this, and while Skye gets frustrated with them, Natasha never does. She understands what it's like to be adrift and uncertain, looking for an anchor. She'll keep responding until Skye believes her.

"And it's not like I'm leaving you alone," Natasha goes on as she carefully reaches up to remove Skye's helmet.

"Nobody's… good as you," Skye mumbles.

The helmet comes off and Natasha is able to stroke Skye's (much shorter now) hair, being careful to avoid the bandages over the burr holes that were drilled in Skye's skull.

"Feels good." Skye opens her eyes again and looks at Natasha. "You'll come back?"

Natasha nods.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Skye considers this. "Bring me something? A… uh…"

"A souvenir?" Natasha offers.

"Mmm-hmm."

"I'll try to find something," Natasha says. She flicks off the lights. "We don't exactly have a gift shop."

Skye cuddles a bit closer and one of her casted arms comes up to brush against Natasha's face. "Should have one."

"I'll talk to Captain America about that." Natasha smiles.

The room is quiet for a few minutes, and Natasha can't think of anything she loves more than Skye's weight against her, of Skye's breathing in her ears. "You know I won't leave you forever, right? And I'm not leaving you alone. Tell me who's staying with you."

"Jemma," Skye says sleepily. "And Agent."

(That's what she's taken to calling Coulson, much to Natasha's amusement.)

"Fitz. Brabra… no, Bobbi." Skye yawns. "Her boyfriend."

"Whose name is?" Natasha prompts.

"Larry."

(It's not even close, but Natasha knows the nickname makes Hunter laugh.)

"Scary Mulan," Skye goes on.

(May.)

"Mark."

(Mack.)

"Twin brothers."

(The Koenigs.)

"Doctor In My Head."

(Andrew.)

"One more," Natasha prods when Skye's list stops. "You like her a lot."

"Not you," Skye says, and though it's dark Natasha can tell she's pouting.

"No, not me," Natasha says gently. "Who's your new best friend?"

"Not you," Skye repeats, but the tone in her voice has changed; Natasha knows she's thinking.

Just when Natasha's positive the love of her life has gone to sleep, Skye speaks again, her voice triumphant. "Wanda."

Natasha is instantly proud. Over the past week Skye has been frustrated by her inability to give the correct name to the Sokovian girl, someone she adored, someone who was always her number-two choice to help her or fix things or type for her or play Go Fish (a game Skye barely remembered and one Wanda had never played). Her other name choices were fairly impressive, though: "Wobble," "Glowy," and "Not-Natasha."

"That's right," she says, and she kisses Skye. "And all of those people love you so much. They will take care of you while I'm gone."

"Yay," Skye murmurs sarcastically, and then she truly does fall asleep.

* * *

ii. _the two doves_

Skye thrashes herself out of a nightmare and finds she's on the floor. Natasha's gone and the room is cool around her. She gasps for air, searches for the clock, for her phone, for anyone or anything who could help her.

Everything hurts and she feels only rage pulsing at her temples. The room slides as though she's on a listing ship, and she whimpers. She can't breathe.

The door bangs open and Skye tries to figure out who's come to save her. "Tash…?"

But her rescuer doesn't walk like Tasha, or smell like Tasha. Tasha smells like gun oil and cinnamon. This person smells like incense.

A hesitant hand reaches down, stroking her back. "Natasha's Skye?" an accented voice asks.

Skye head throbs but she tries to figure out who's in the room. She knows this person. She just can't remember them.

"Oh, little one," the incense-scented woman says, and Skye's rolled over onto her back, looking up at the blurry face overhead.

"Wobble," she says, but she knows it's not right.

"Yes. I am here."

"Not Wobble."

"It is fine to call me this."

"'S wrong."

"Have never had a nickname before," Wobble says. "Is all right."

"Wobble. Wobble." The word is wrong but Skye can't find the right one. She wants to scream.

"Breathe." Wobble kneels down beside her, stroking her hair _once, twice_ …

Then Wobble pulls back.

"Wobble?"

"Your head," Wobble says.

Skye reaches up for her head, forgetting that her arms are rigid in her casts. Her fingertips brush her forehead but can't go much further, and they come back to her red and sticky. "Wobble…"

"Does it hurt?"

"All hurts." Skye blinks. "Tash."

"She is gone for now."

" _Wanda_." The name comes back to Skye and she wants to weep with gratitude. "Wanda, want Tash."

"First we find you help," Wanda says, and she stands up.

Skye blinks and when her eyes open again Jemma and Agent are there, and she's in a completely different room. "Wobble," she says to Jemma.

"Wanda's over there," Jemma replies, flashing a penlight into Skye's eyes.

"No," Skye mutters, and tries to shove the flashlight away.

"Pupils are equal and reactive," Jemma says. "No further head trauma. She must have just yanked a bandage off when she fell."

"Tash," Skye repeats. She blinks again, finding that the room is getting blurry and she's seeing everything twice.

"Skye?" Jemma asks, seeing something in her face. "What's wrong?"

Skye frowns, thinking about it. "Why's Fitz wearing a new… uhh…"

Jemma turns to look at Fitz. "He's wearing a bathrobe."

"Bathrobe," Skye says obediently, like there'll be a test later.

"Skye… you can see Fitz?"

Skye nods and regrets it when pain boxes her ears.

"You can see him wearing his bathrobe over there?"

"It's… not Fitz?" Skye's hesitant now, wondering if Jemma's going to mock her for not even knowing one of her best friends.

"No, it's Fitz," Jemma says, her voice hushed and reverent. "But he's on your left side, Skye, and I had you look straight ahead for the eye exam, so there's no way you could have seen him out of your right eye."

"Head hurts. Talk less," Skye says.

Wanda speaks up. "She means you are seeing from your left eye."

 _Left eye._ Skye processes this.

"What else can you see over there?" Jemma asks.

"Scary Mulan," Skye says.

"You can see Agent May?"

Skye nods.

A grin steals over Jemma's face. "Oh, Skye. That's wonderful."

"Not wonderful," Skye mutters. "She's frowny."

"And that's her _happy_ face," Agent says from behind Jemma.

* * *

iii. _triangle puzzle_

"Mr. Agent?" Wanda steps hesitantly into the office, holding a phone in her hand. "I am in need of assistance."

"Wanda, you can call me Phil," Coulson says, as he always does, knowing he's got a snowball's chance in hell of it happening. "Or at least Coulson."

"I will think on it," Wanda says, and she holds the phone out to him. "Phone does not work."

Coulson takes it, pushing the home button, and isn't surprised when the phone refuses to turn on. Instead a pulse of red energy blasts from it; he drops it to the desk hurriedly.

"I apologize," Wanda says. "Is… fourth or fifth phone I have broken?"

Coulson looks down at the wisps of red still emanating from the device. "I don't think your powers like electronics."

Wanda shrugs. "Then we are in agreement. I do not like them much either."

She takes another half-step into the room and delicately sits down on the chair across from his desk, as though he's going to yell at her for doing so. "This is why I need assistance."

"Anything," Coulson says, and genuinely means it. He knows the other Avengers don't quite trust Wanda, for reasons that are extremely apparent, but in his mind, Wanda's the one who saved Skye, found her in the rubble, made it possible for them to dig her out.

"I need to call Natasha," Wanda says. "But phone…"

She gestures to the cracked phone.

"I see," Coulson says. "I'll help you use the satellite connection. No electronics to mess with and, as a bonus, you'll be able to see Natasha."

Wanda sits primly in the chair while Coulson goes about hooking up the connection to the new Avengers' base, tucking and folding her shawl around her. Her eyes flit around the room; Coulson watches her out of the corner of his eye and he can tell that she's taking in absolutely everything. She's so perceptive it's scary.

"You are missing someone," she says just as he's about to place the call.

He freezes. "Aren't we all?" he manages to say.

Wanda shrugs. "You are missing someone who is not gone."

Coulson sighs. "Anyone ever tell you that you don't make a lot of sense?"

She smiles at him. "Many people. You… not before."

"This person I'm missing who's not missing…?"

"You are missing Skye. She is not gone."

Coulson lets his head droop. "But she's not here, either."

"She'll come back," Wanda says offhandedly. "She's coming back. Soon."

"And you know that…?"

"Because I do not make much sense," Wanda says, and when he raises his head she's smiling at him. "If they are to call me witch, I should live up to this, yes?"

"Yes."

Coulson finally dials the number Natasha had left with him, and as she appears on the screen he says, "I'll leave you two to talk."

"Thank you, Mr. Agent," Wanda says.

As he heads for the door he hears her voice again. "She wants to come back. She is still in there. All we must do is search for her…"

A pause.

"… Director Coulson."

"You are a very odd young woman, Wanda Maximoff. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Only a few," Wanda says, and she smiles at him again.

* * *

iv. _four little birds_

"Skye, you have to eat," May says.

"No," Skye says stubbornly, and May wonders how she'd ended up with the short straw, trying to convince a twenty-seven-year-old woman to eat alphabet soup.

"Natasha wants you to eat," May says. She'd avoided using that particular threat, but there's literally nothing else to bribe Skye with.

"Tash… not here," Skye points out.

May puts the spoon back into the bowl and stands up, preparing to leave. "No. She's not."

At this Skye bursts into tears.

"Oh, damn," May says. "Shh, Skye, I'm sorry."

"Want Tash," Skye sobs.

"Shhh, sweetheart," May says, and she wraps her arms around the shaking young woman. "I'm so sorry."

The door opens and Wanda approaches them cautiously. May's eyes follow every move the Maximoff girl makes. It's no secret around the Playground that May doesn't necessarily trust Wanda. Even Wanda accepts it, moving in controlled orbits that don't include May.

"Do you need something?" May asks.

Wanda holds up Skye's laptop. "Would like to try something."

She sets the computer down on the over-bed table and opens it, turning it on to show a blank document. "Might result in slight… electronical issue. But will be great help if successful."

May gives her a side-eye.

"Please trust me," Wanda says.

May's never heard her speak so plainly, and she sees silent pleas in Wanda's eyes. "Okay."

"Skye, I am going to be Glowy for a bit," Wanda says. "I want you to focus on what you're trying to say, and look at the computer. I will translate."

May can't think of anything more ridiculous, but she holds her tongue.

"Want Tash," Skye tells Wanda.

"I am sorry, little one," Wanda says. "Try this for me instead, please?"

Skye frowns, looking like a petulant child. At last she sighs. "Fine."

Wanda raises her left hand and extends it towards Skye's head. Her right hand goes out towards the computer.

The tenor in the room changes nearly immediately. The hair on the back of May's neck stands up as red tendrils of energy spool out of Wanda's hands, a bridge between Skye's brain and the computer, with Wanda as the conductor.

"Do not fight it," Wanda says softly. "I will not hurt, little one."

"Hurrrs," Skye slurs, and for a moment she looks so disconnected that May nearly stops the entire sideshow right then and there.

Wanda takes a deep breath and shudders.

Words pop up on the computer screen.

 _I don't want to eat any more soup, May. I know there's cake in the kitchen left over from Hunter's birthday. Can I have some of that instead? Also my big toe on my left foot is itchy._

"Holy shit," May says.

Wanda grins.

It doesn't work for very long. Wanda's not used to being a conduit. May sees her trying to hang onto the connection though it's clearly causing her at least discomfort if not outright pain. The Sokovian girl's breathing gets ragged, and then it comes in gasps. Her eyes glow red and her arms shake and little grunts escape from her mouth.

"Wanda, you can stop," May says gently, knowing the girl is somewhere between worlds and unable to communicate with both.

 _You can stop if it's hurting you_ , Skye types.

"Is not… so bad," Wanda says.

As soon as she bites out the last word, the energy snaps back into her hands in a burst of red light and the dark-haired girl collapses to the floor.

(When she wakes up, a few hours later, a roaring headache pounding in her skull and pulsing at her ears, her first words to May are: "Was… maybe bad.")

* * *

v. _dove in the window_

Natasha wakes in the early morning to the sound of her ringing phone. For a few fuzzy seconds she can't remember why that would be so important, and she's tempted to ignore it.

Then Skye's face flits across her mind and she rolls over so quickly she nearly hits the floor, grabbing the phone. "Hello?"

"Tash," Skye says, her voice breathy and happy.

"Good morning, _milaya devushka,"_ Natasha replies. "How are you?"

"Sleepy."

"You could have stayed in bed," Natasha reminds her.

Skye goes quiet, and Natasha wishes, not for the first time, that she was back at the Playground, able to see Skye's eyes. Things in Skye's head were so bottled up and blocked off by events so out of her control, but her eyes never lied. Natasha could read those eyes better than most people could read books.

"What's wrong?" Natasha tries again.

Skye stays quiet.

"I miss you," Natasha says.

Nothing.

"Skye, talk to me."

"You will… you should…" Skye takes a breath. "Don't… don't come here. Back here."

Fear squeezes Natasha. "Is something wrong there?"

"No. Yes. Both."

"Can you tell me about it?"

"No."

"Can you try?"

Silence.

"Did someone do something to upset you?"

No response.

"Does something hurt?"

"Yes."

"Okay. What is it?"

"Uhh… chest."

"Your chest hurts," Natasha clarifies, her mind instantly going to the pressure vest wrapped around Skye's body, protecting her fragile sternum.

"Not chest," Skye corrects herself. " _In_ chest."

"Your heart?"

"Mm-hmm."

"What does it feel like?"

"Feels like…" Skye hesitates. "… don't come home."

Natasha sighs. "I need more information."

She hears Skye's breathing pick up, and she knows Skye's close to tears.

"I am not good," Skye gets out. "I am not… I am not… you shouldn't want…"

Pieces slam together in Natasha's head. "You don't want me to come back because you think I'm not going to love you anymore, because you're broken."

"Stupid," Skye whimpers.

"You're not stupid. And you're not broken," Natasha says firmly. "What did I say you were?"

" _Mine_ ," Skye answers in a shaky voice.

"You're mine," Natasha says. "You've been mine since I saw you asleep in the quarantine chamber, and you'll be mine until I take my last breath. I'm not going to leave because you got hurt. I promise."

"Stupid," Skye repeats.

"You're not stupid. You're still in there and we're going to fight to get you back," Natasha says.

"No," Skye says, her voice oddly sharp. "No more fighting. Done."

Natasha closes her eyes. "Then you don't have to fight."

"Hm?"

"No. You rest. I'll fight for you, until you're ready. Then we can fight together."

* * *

vi. _drunkard's path_

It takes four of them – Jemma, Wanda, Coulson, and May – to get Skye up into the walker. She grimaces and whimpers as they manipulate her throbbing, achy body into the contraption, but she doesn't cry out or yell. She focuses on the pain, the way she once had to focus to control her powers. It doesn't make it less, it doesn't stop it, but the pain recedes like noise in the background and it clears Skye's vision somewhat.

The walker has more straps and supports than any piece of equipment Skye's ever seen, but she's grateful for all of them. She leans forward, her arms propped up on the padded rests, and looks down at her sneakered feet.

"Whenever you're ready," Jemma says softly.

Skye can't tell anyone that she's terrified, that she's basically admitted in her head that she'll never get any better, that once Natasha sees her shaking, broken body she'll just _leave_ like everyone else did, just _leave_ her all alone in a body she can't control and –

A gentle hand brushes her shoulder and all of those thoughts disappear. Instead Skye remembers Natasha fighting for her, keeping her safe throughout their stay at the cabin, talking until the sun came up, trying to figure out answers to problems so far beyond anyone's imagining.

Skye turns her head and is unsurprised to see Wanda next to her.

Wanda shrugs. "Sometimes is not all bad."

Somehow, with those infinitely more pleasant memories sluicing down her back like cleansing rain, Skye manages to take a step forward.

And then another.

 _For Natasha_.

* * *

vii. _solomon's crown_

Seven weeks later, Natasha returns when Skye's in speech therapy with some colleague of Andrew's. She catches sight of her gorgeous dark-haired girl through a window, noting that something seems different. She's nearly down the hall and around the corner when it hits her, and she practically sprints back.

Sure enough, Skye's upright. Upright in the walker, her hands now in modified casts, reaching up for the flashcards the therapist has in front of her. And she's _smiling_. She still looks ridiculous in the protective helmet, but Tasha has come to accept that as part of Skye's many, _many_ charms.

"Amazing, isn't it?"

Natasha turns to see Coulson standing next to her. "She's…"

"She's a fighter," Coulson says.

"She's brilliant," Natasha murmurs.

Coulson turns to look at her. "Remember how we once agreed that we didn't believe in all that woo-woo stuff?"

"Of course," Natasha says. "If I recall correctly, it was shortly after we met with a man claiming to be a voodoo priest who just turned out to be attempting to manufacture yellowcake uranium in his Louisiana boudoir, and the 'magic' he claimed to be producing was actually hallucinations from the chemicals."

"It was," Coulson agrees. "But now…"

He hesitates, seeming a little embarrassed, and Natasha takes her eyes off Skye. "What?"

"Just… don't lose that Maximoff girl. Saved the day multiple times. Kept Skye sane, and everyone else as well, and for someone with such a tentative grasp on her _own_ sanity, she did a damn good job," Coulson says, and without any further dialogue, he walks away.

Before Tasha can figure out what the hell he meant by that, a hand slaps against the glass in front of her and she hears a squeal.

 _Magic indeed_ , Tasha thinks as she raises her head to see her gorgeous brown-eyed girl smiling and laughing and waving, mere inches instead of hundreds of miles away.

* * *

viii. _eight hands around_

"Everyone took good care of me," Skye says to Natasha when they're lying in the dark sometime later. She can't find the words to express how wonderful it is to be curled up to Natasha, her leg braces removed for the night and the pressure vest off and the casts less restrictive than the last time they'd been together. "But they're not you."

Natasha holds Skye to her, unable to tell Skye how proud she is of all the progress made over the last two months. Skye's speech is more coherent, her stamina greatly increased (something Natasha intends to exploit as soon as possible), and her physical injuries are healing rapidly. "No one at the new facility is you either."

"Good," Skye says as she snuggles into Natasha's embrace. "If someone was me… you wouldn't want to come home."

"Is this home?" Natasha asks quietly.

"Mm-hmm," Skye murmurs sleepily.

"How do you know?"

"You're here," Skye says.

"I am," Natasha agrees.

The room is silent then, and Natasha thinks Skye's asleep.

"Tash?" she hears.

"Hmm?"

"This is home, right?"

"Yes. Because you're here."


End file.
